A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and started following along! It's exciting to be the first story for the reboot and I'm glad other people are excited too!

So here's a new chapter to get us through this lonely Thursday night. I'm already having withdrawals! I can't wait for the show to come back from break...

Enjoy! :)

Reagan followed Deacon outside, the humid air smelling of cigarette smoke and car exhaust. It should have grossed her out, but she found it oddly comforting. She loved summer nights in the city. Always had. She'd lived in LA her whole life and never wanted to go anywhere else. She loved the excitement and vitality it emitted. Her job did allow her to see the bad side of things, but she knew there was good, too.

And that good came in the form of people like Deacon Kay. She didn't know him very well, but she was pretty skilled at reading people. He was a good man right down to his core. He wouldn't compromise it for anyone or anything. It always made her job easier when she worked with people like him.

Reagan glanced over at Deacon as they rounded the corner, moving toward the parking lot. He looked back and gave her a slight smile, one-hundred percent gentleman. There was something about his eyes, though. So dark and perceptive. Her heart did a little flutter every time he looked at her.

What the hell was that about?

She tried to brush it off as they walked along in companionable silence. He was a nice, respectable, trustworthy man. That was it. He was easy company.

"So tell me something that isn't in that file of yours," he said, his keys jingling from where they hung off his index finger.

See? Nice.

"Well…you already know that I grew up here. My dad was a deadbeat and my mom worked two jobs to keep food on the table for me and my little brother. I didn't know I wanted to be a cop until one helped my mom after a run-in with dear ol' dad. I haven't seen him since. I don't know where he is and I don't care. Too much baggage so far?"

Deacon chuckled softly. "We've all got it."

She playfully narrowed her eyes on him. "I'm not sure if that's reassuring."

He shook his head. "Believe me, I've heard worse. I'm not sure how much you know about Street, but I'm fairly certain he has you beat—not that it's a competition or anything."

Reagan laughed. It probably wasn't appropriate to laugh at people's suffering, but it beat crying over it. "What's his deal anyway? Does he flirt with everything that moves?"

"Not quite. Only the pretty ones."

She smiled at him. She wasn't sure if he had meant to compliment her, but she'd take it, and try not to read into it at the same time.

As they approached Reagan's car, an aqua-blue convertible with a black soft-top, Deacon let out a low whistle.

"What is that? A 1970 Chevelle?"

"72', but they look about the same," she replied, unlocking the door. "My grandfather left it to me when he passed. I consider it my most prized possession."

"I don't blame you," he said as his eyes roamed over the sleek vehicle. "She's a beauty."

"Thanks. And thank you for walking me out. I had a good time tonight. I'm excited to get to work with you guys."

"I'm glad to hear it. The feeling is mutual," he said with a friendly grin. "Drive safe. See you tomorrow, Cassie."

She smiled and waved as he began to walk away backwards. "Goodnight, boss."

He returned the wave and then spun around, heading toward his police-issued Charger in the next row.

Reagan climbed into her car and put the key in the ignition. When she turned it, nothing happened. Frowning, she tried once more. Still nothing.

Well, that can't be good.

She got out and walked to stand in front of the hood. That was when she noticed something was off. The usually flawless front was scraped and bent. When she went to pull the lever to lift the hood, the whole thing opened without any resistance, revealing a gaping hole instead of her car battery. Other parts were gone as well.

Groaning, she slammed the hood closed, but it made a dull thud and popped up again, ajar. Clearly, someone had pried it open and broken the latch.

"Awesome," she muttered, cursing to herself.

"Something wrong?" a voice asked from behind her.

Reagan jumped, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard someone come up behind her. She spun around and saw Deacon, much to her relief. He was right—this wasn't a good area—and she wasn't crazy about the idea of being mugged like her poor car.

"I guess someone else liked the look of my baby a little too much."

"Parts missing?" he asked.

"Yup." She sighed and took her phone out of her back pocket.

"You're lucky they didn't take the whole car."

"Can't say I'm feeling especially 'lucky' right now, but, yeah," she said with a smirk. She scrolled through her phone and found the number for a tow truck, explaining her plan to him as she went. "After they drop it off at the garage, I'll just catch a ride home."

Deacon shook his head. "No way. When they get here I'll take you home. As Luca would say, 'No officer left behind.'"

She smiled. "Again, thank you. You really don't have to, but I appreciate it."

"It's what we do. I know you'd do the same if roles were reversed."

She nodded in agreement as she dialed for the tow truck.

An hour later, Reagan rode with Deacon to her house. She noted how clean his vehicle was inside and out. It still had a new car smell, but was mixed with something else slightly musky, most likely his cologne of choice. She kept her own car relatively clean, as it was her pride and joy, but her house was another story. She wouldn't be letting him inside, that much was for sure.

"So you've told me your family history, which I knew a good deal of," he began, "but you still haven't told me about yourself—the Reagan part."

She took a deep breath and watched the passing street lights reflect off his hood as she said, "There isn't much to tell. I work a lot so I don't have loads of free time. When I do have time off, I like to read or go surfing." She paused and pursed her lips in thought. "Uh, every Friday night I go over to my elderly neighbor's house and watch Blue Bloods. We can't get enough of Tom Selleck and his mustache."

He laughed, and she continued, rambling whatever came to mind.

"Um…I love pizza. And coffee. So much so that it's probably unhealthy. I despise onions…and my favorite color is orange. Have I covered everything?" They both chuckled. "Your turn."

Deacon raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath, letting it out before saying, "Well, okay…I don't get asked this question very often. I'm usually the one doing the asking."

Reagan smiled and swept her hand toward him, and then waited for him to think of some answers.

He cleared his throat. "Okay. Hockey and fishing, Game of Thrones, tacos, also coffee, hate tomatoes, and love the color blue."

"Very nice," she said with a nod. "In that case, we should have coffee together sometime."

Shit. Did she really say that out loud? She'd meant it as a simple observation, but it totally sounded like a come on. Deacon didn't seem to notice, though—or didn't show it.

"Sure. How do you take it? Black?"

"Is there any other way?" she asked, pretending to be confused.

He laughed. "My thoughts exactly."

They pulled into Reagan's short driveway and Deacon peered through the windshield at her small house, with its turquoise front door and flaking white trim. Man, she really needed to repaint that...

"Right on the beach, huh?"

"Yeah, I pay dearly for it, but it's worth it. I run on the beach every morning, go surfing on my days off. It's great."

"Sounds great. I'm embarrassed to say that I've lived here almost my whole life and I've never gone surfing. Luca keeps trying to get me to go, but it never works out."

"Really? Well, I'd be happy to take you out sometime."

Seriously? Another come on?

"Ya know, get you on some of those famous Cali waves," she clarified. She could actually feel her cheeks turning pink. Luckily, it was dark inside the car.

"That'd be awesome. And maybe Luca could come along so he doesn't feel left out."

"Sure." Definitely not a date, she thought with relief.

"So, I'll see you in the morning? 7 a.m. good for you?"

"I thought I needed to be there at 8..."

"You do, but I'm going to be here at 7 to pick you up," he said, smiling. "Pretty sure your car won't be ready by then."

"I have a feeling that if I say no, you're still going to be here tomorrow."

"You would be correct."

"Okay, then. I'll see you bright and early. Thanks again, boss."

He gave her a wave as she exited the car, and waited until she was inside her house before he pulled out of the driveway.

Reagan kicked off her shoes and plugged her phone into the charger. It wasn't until she reached her tiny deck and heard the waves crashing out back that she realized she'd been imagining Deacon in board shorts and nothing else.

So not appropriate! she screamed inside her head. Seriously. She needed to stop whatever this was. Deacon was her boss. Her brand-new boss. She had to work with him for the next few months. Professionalism and focus were key here. She couldn't screw this up, especially when lives were on the line. From now on, she would put her personal feelings aside and not let them interfere in any way.

The next day, Deacon arrived at Reagan's and she didn't waste any time coming out to meet him. When she got into the car, he motioned to the cup holders between them.

"Figured you could use a pick-me-up. It's from this little place down the road from my apartment. They brew the best dark roast around."

Reagan picked up the coffee cup on her side and put it under her nose. It smelled absolutely divine. She took a sip and closed her eyes. It tasted even better.

"Thank you," was all she could get out between sips.

"Anytime," he said, smiling as he backed out of the driveway. He lifted his own cup to his mouth and she snickered beside him.

"Who's Danielle?"

He started, almost spilling coffee onto his lap. He glanced at the written name and phone number on his cup, and mumbled, "Not again..."

"Oh this I have to hear."

Deacon sighed. "The owner of the coffee shop has been trying to set me up with his daughter for months. I've met her. She seems nice. But, I don't know. It's...weird."

"And how well does he know you? You could be a kidnapper/murderer/rapist."

Deacon shot her an unimpressed glance. "He knows I'm SWAT. Apparently, that automatically makes me trustworthy and great husband material."

Reagan shrugged. "If anything, it probably makes it worse."

"So you struggle with that too?"

"Every relationship I've had since joining the force has ended because he couldn't handle my hours, the risks and the overabundance of testosterone around me."

"Same here...minus the testosterone part."

Reagan wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Are you sure about that?"

He just laughed.

Deacon changed out of his full uniform at the end of the day, opting for the simple black SWAT t-shirt and cargo pants. He'd picked up a call with 50-David while Cassie did more training with Hondo and the team. Everything had gone smoothly on the call and they'd apprehended the perps. No body bags required, thank God. Though, one of the responding officers had been hit by a bullet, but it was only a graze, and was treated on site.

Hondo, along with Street and Luca, entered the locker room and clapped Deacon on the back.

"Hey, boss. How'd it go out there today?"

"Good. Missed you guys, though."

Luca grinned. "Aww, we missed you too! Man, you should've seen Cassie today. We went out to the shooting range and she whupped the new guy on 70-David's team. Won me twenty bucks."

"Do you guys have to bet on everything?" Deacon asked, laughing.

"You're just saying that because you always lose," Street said as he rummaged through his locker. When he found whatever it was he'd been looking for, he stood and turned toward Deacon. "Seriously, though. Can we keep her?"

"Don't let Tan hear you say that," he retorted, but what he really wanted to say was, Lay off Cassie and take a step back, Street. He hadn't liked the way the other man had looked at her at the bar the night before. All eyes and dimples, and to make it even worse, she didn't seem to mind.

So, okay, Deacon wasn't completely innocent in this whole thing either. He hadn't expected her to wear such short shorts, displaying her gorgeous, muscular legs. It was amazing how different people could look in and out of work, especially women when they let their hair down and put on extra makeup. Not that he preferred them that way. He'd take real over fake any day, and that was hard to come by in Southern California.

The thing that really got him, though, was the real personality that came along with Cassie's looks. Her vandalized car hadn't been a good reason to spend time together, but he'd still enjoyed it. She made him laugh and was brutally honest—she didn't hold back or sensor her past. Another trait that was hard to come by.

"I think he'd agree," Street said, knocking Deacon out of his deep thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Tan. I think he'd agree that we should keep Cassie."

"Oh, right." He let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, probably."

As Street continued on with his high praise, Deacon zoned out again. It was too soon to sort out his feelings for the new girl and what they meant, but his one hope was that they all could keep it professional.